


The Creaking Door

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Sussex Retirement [20]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 21:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Watson is woken for the third night in a row by a creaking door.





	The Creaking Door

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Older Not Dead, Giving Up challenge. Prompt: Giving up on something which can't be fixed

For the third time in as many nights I woke to the sound of creaking.  I was aware of the tension in Holmes’ body beside me, showing he too was awake and listening for footsteps.  When none came I wearily got out of bed.

“I’m going to move a chair up against that door,” I said.  “It won’t stop the noise, but at least it won’t be as bad.”

I stumbled downstairs and pushed the door open.  Holmes had greased the hinges the previous day thinking this would alleviate the problem, but if anything it had made I worse.  We could have another look in the morning, for the moment all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.

By the time Mrs Maiden arrived the following morning Holmes had tried various solutions, all of which had meant further creaks which were beginning to get on my nerves.

Holmes nodded to Mrs Maiden as she came in and continued to swing the door to and fro, listening to the loud sounds it was making.

“Mr Holmes, I trust you do not intend to continue in this vein all morning,” our housekeeper said.

“I’m trying to find the source of the creaking,” Holmes replied.

Mrs Maiden glared at Holmes’ arm, which was in truth the main reason, and said, “You will need to get someone to re-hang it.”

“I’m sure it’s not as serious as that,” Holmes answered.  “I must tend to my bees, after which I shall have another look.”

The hour Holmes spent outside was one of blessed silence.  It did not last, of course, and upon his return he continued to experiment.

I rose from my chair and told Holmes I was going into the village, having some errands to run.  He nodded absently at me and continued to creak the door.

“I’m going down to the village, Mrs Maiden,” I said as I went past her.  She nodded in understanding and called out a couple of names to me.

Once in the village I first visited Jem Woodrow, who had a workshop just off the high street.  I explained my problem and he agreed he could help, but would only be able to come at the end of the week.  I did not think I could last another three days; nor was I sure the door would survive Holmes’ ministrations for that long, so I asked whether it would be possible for him to come sooner.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I’m a man down, and we’re going to be hard pressed to finish these chairs as it is.”  He looked thoughtfully at me, and then said, “You could ask Peter Hillman.”

“That’s not a name I recognise,” I said.  We had been living in the village for nearly two years and I thought I knew most people now.

“No, you wouldn’t.  He was sent to prison just before you came.  Stupid it was – he got led on by others.  He was a good jobbing workman and he’s trying to build up a business for himself now he’s back out, but it’s not easy.”

That I could understand.  And the trouble was, if he didn’t get work he’d almost certainly turn back to crime.  “I’ll give him a chance,” I said.

“I wouldn’t leave him on his own in a house, you never know what sort of habits he’s picked up inside, but I don’t think that’d be a problem for you.”  Jem laughed.  “And I can’t see Pete’d be inclined to put one over on the great Sherlock Holmes.  You’ll get the job done cheap as well.”

“I don’t want to take advantage,” I said.

“Fair enough.  I can tell you how much I’d have charged.  He’s not a craftsman, so worth about two-thirds of that.”

I thanked Jem and took directions as to where I could find Hillman.  Having done so, I then completed my other errands and made my way back to the cottage with a sense of relief.

After dinner I saw Holmes looking at the offending door with a gleam in his eye.  Fortunately, there was a knock at the front door and I let Hillman in and showed him the problem.

He inspected the creaking door for a few minutes and then said, “I’m sorry, Doctor, there’s more work to do than I expected.  Some of the wood has been badly chipped and will need repairing.”

I glared at Holmes, who tried to look as if he’d never been anywhere near it.

“In which case,” I said, “could you at least take it off its hinges?”  That wasn’t an ideal solution, but I could always get Jem to do the repairs after all.  And if the door was no longer attached to the frame at least it wouldn’t creak and I could get some sleep at night.

“I can do the work,” Hillman said, “but the repairs would need to set overnight.  I can come back tomorrow morning to finish the job.”

I could hear in his voice the resignation that what had been a reasonably paid job for an afternoon’s work, would now be a poorly paid job taking much longer.

“What rate did you agree?” Holmes asked me.  I told him and he continued, “Well, Peter Hillman, I suggest you do what you can with the door this afternoon, and then there will be a couple of odd jobs you can do to use the rest of the time.  We will pay you to come back tomorrow morning and finish repairing the door and also do some other small jobs.  Is that acceptable to you?”

“Oh yes, Mr Holmes,” Hillman replied.  “Thank you very much.”

“Do a good job and you may well find your reputation at having worked for Sherlock Holmes will improve your standing in the community.”  Holmes’ smile as he said this was small, but entirely genuine.

It did not greatly surprise me Holmes knew who Hillman was, although I had made no mention of him.  Holmes’ powers of observation were as sharp as ever.  He told me later someone had mentioned Hillman’s name to him shortly after we had arrived in the village, so despite never meeting him, Holmes had known who Hillman was from practically the moment he had stepped into our cottage.

When we went to bed that night I sighed happily.  “At least it should be quieter tonight.  By the way, Holmes, have you decided what jobs to give Hillman tomorrow?”

“I had thought of asking Mrs Maiden, but I fear her list would take him the rest of the week to complete.”

I laughed.  “If not half of next week too!”

 

 


End file.
